Back in the Saddle
by 1985laurie
Summary: A small two parter involving Wilson and House...if you know me at all, you'll know what this will involve...no slash...R&R! You know the drill! Wilson!hurt. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: A sort of random two-shot. No spoilers, no slash, just a bit of fun and pain...what more could you ask for? Enjoy!**

"He was wearing a thong!" House announced, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he burst in Wilson's office. The fact that House was really smiling, actually _baring his teeth_, was disconcerting…Wilson could count on one hand, the number of times in the last year that House had graced him with such a smile. It didn't necessarily mean that Wilson would get _as _excited; although, the mere mention of thongs was mildly interesting.

"Who?" Wilson asked, realising that House was actually waiting for him to finish the paperwork he was currently slaving over. This meant that he probably wanted to show him the thong in question…it was going to be a long day.

"My patient…" House grinned, watching closely for Wilson's reaction.

Wilson frowned, "your patient is a seventy-two year old man…"

House smirked in acknowledgement as Wilson cringed and pulled a thoroughly disgusted face at the thought. "I don't believe it" he added, seriously.

"That's what I thought you'd say-" House began, with a smug look creeping into the ever-present smile.

"You haven't got it with you, have you?" House rolled his eyes, which Wilson took as a no. "Well, then – I don't believe you" he stated before returning to his paperwork.

House didn't budge though, he remained seated on Wilson's couch; he tapped his cane annoyingly on the floor a few times, apparently building up to something.

"I'll be happy to prove you wrong" he stated casually, "but the item in question is in the basement; lots of boxes and that need moving…" he trailed off, leaning forward and taking a piece of paper from Wilson's desk and folding it into the shape of a paper aeroplane.

"So…you really came here to ask me to come with you and _help_ you find it…" Wilson concluded, glancing up briefly from his paperwork.

"Sure, c'mon" House got up and limped to the door, expecting Wilson to follow. "If you come now – I'll share my half of the winnings with you" he added, as though it were the deal breaker of a lifetime.

"What winnings?" Wilson asked curiously.

"The $200 that Foreman and Chase have each bet on the possibility that I'm telling lies" House replied, smirking again. There's nothing like knowing you're right, to put you in a chirpy mood, Wilson thought as he remained in his seat.

"What makes them think that you wont cheat and come up with any old thong and claim that it's his?" he asked, feeling guilty for raining on House's parade.

"Right..." House said, leaning in towards Wilson as though he were about to let him into some big secret; "there's this new thing called DNO...no wait...DNE?" he frowned. "DNA!" he announced triumphantly, letting loose his mock cry with the added accompaniment of the paper aeroplane.

Wilson sighed as it came precariously close to landing on his head; "If we haven't found it by half three, I'm leaving you down there" he stated in a stern tone as he threw his pen down in defeat. "Unlike you – I actually do have work to do! What exactly should you be doing right now?"

House pretended to think deeply about this question. "Well," he began, "my working day pretty much consists of standing around looking good, throwing around the occasional snarky comment, flirting with _every _member of staff in the hospital, and jumping in at the last minute before my team gets to kill any patients…if I get bored, I rearrange the order…"

Wilson gave him a confused look; "rearrange the order?" he repeated slowly.

"Yeah…sometimes I flirt with the patients, and jump in at the last minute to stop my snarky comments from killing my team…did I take anything when I came in here?" House asked, pulling out his Vicodin. "No wait – it was that gas leak they had in the OR earlier..." he mumbled, shaking his head and returning the tub to his blazer pocket.

Wilson frowned in response – gas leaks in the OR? Well it certainly explained House's abnormally good mood; "I definitely should have gone into diagnostics" Wilson muttered irately as he exited his office behind the unusually chirpy diagnostician.

He followed the other man towards the elevator; it was surprising how fast House could actually move when he was excited about something. The prospect of clearing his fellow's pockets out was obviously enough to amuse him close to the point of genuine happiness. That, and an apparent nerve gas leak in the OR...

As they reached the basement, House bolted from the elevator, especially eager to find his bounty. Wilson, on the other hand, trailed behind; the prospect of finding some elderly cross dresser's panties wasn't as appealing as it may have once sounded.

He mumbled monosyllabic answers to House's insistent rambling about his patient as they drifted further and further away from the bustling hospital. "So, this guy gets discharged this morning – making it all the way out to the kerb" House began, not bothering to check if Wilson was still following; "All of a sudden, he just strokes out; the nurses get to him and race him back in…Anyway, I was watching him being transferred into the ICU, when something in his clothing bag catches my eye" House paused as the image of the silky pink thong came back to him. "I'm betting his wife doesn't know anything about his...perversion"

"Are you actually betting on the wife; or was that a figure of speech?" Wilson asked warily.

"Oh, she doesn't bet; what with being an ex-senator's wife and all" House drawled; "The thong definitely wasn't hers either"

"Did you just giggle?" Wilson asked disbelievingly as they descended the few steps into the basement.

"Don't be ridiculous" House replied, smirking to himself as he quickly set about moving boxes. He staggered slightly as the contents of one box shifted when he lifted it; Wilson turned away in protest, unwilling to watch what catastrophe might unfold.

When he heard House slam the box down behind him, he turned back again; "Where's his bag then?"

"Through there" House pointed to a stack of boxes that totally obscured the large container holding the various patient bags. He picked up another box and continued talking; "Shipping picked up an order of stationary, or something, earlier" he explained as he pivoted on his good leg, almost toppling onto Wilson who had stepped up to take the box off of him. It didn't seem right, watching a cripple carrying all those heavy boxes; although, a huge part of him just knew that this was why House had invited him along, on the treasure hunt, in the first place.

"One of these days you're gonna hurt-" Wilson was cut off by a strangled cry, coming from his own mouth, as pain shot through his lower back; he dropped the box and grappled blindly, grabbing House's arm in the process.

House, who was unprepared for this reaction, found his centre of gravity severely skewed; he lost his balance and ended up tripping over the small row of boxes behind his feet. He fell, literally, arse over tit and crumpled the boxes behind him with a satisfying thud.

Cursing loudly, he had to take a minute to get his breath back; falling directly onto your back seemed to be a bad idea, especially if you didn't want to be winded. Eventually he managed to groan and slide himself off of the boxes; thankful that he didn't seem to have any lasting injuries.

"House?" Wilson gasped, seeing the movement from the corner of his eye. His first priority would be to make sure he hadn't just knocked out his best friend.

"Jesus, Wilson" House moaned from his prone position beside the, now crumpled, boxes; "next time you want to push me into a bunch of boxes, at least make sure they're not filled with excruciatingly painful office supplies – which they _were_!" he grumbled, attempting to massage his sore shoulder which seemed to have taken the brunt of the impact.

"House?" Wilson repeated in a strained tone of voice that didn't seem to belong to him at all.

House froze in his massage, lifting his head to take a better look at his friend, who was miraculously still standing…sort of. He was bent over, almost double, his hand placed firmly on his thighs; he was trembling slightly and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

House chuckled humorously, realising that Wilson had 'done his back in'. "Just…don't" Wilson said desperately, catching the smirk forming on House's lips.

House took a deep breath to compose himself before gingerly picking his bruised body up. "Need a hand?" he asked innocently, as he hopped labouringly over to his friend's side.

"I just…need…to lay…down" Wilson gasped brokenly, the pain in his lower back was beginning to become unbearable.

Luckily for him, House wasn't into seeing his best friend in agony. He placed his arm under Wilson's and swiftly helped lower him to the ground, not before forcing a Vicodin into his mouth; he sat beside him, trying to work out the annoying knot that had already formed in his stiff shoulder.

"This is the third time this year" he grumbled as he leant over to reach his cane, his leg was absolutely killing him for his mid air somersault. He wouldn't have though it possible to back flip from a standing position...but, you learn something new everyday.

"I know" Wilson replied through gritted teeth, refraining from asking House how long the Vicodin would take to work. "Last time…was when you…passed out-"

"-In the kitchen; yeah, I remember" House finished for him.

"You were unconscious" Wilson reminded him.

"Yeah, I woke up concussed and laying next to you on my kitchen floor – that's how I came to the conclusion that you dropped me when your back went…unless we were doing something with a kinkier edge to it?" House asked, feigning alarm at the thought.

"No, you were unconscious before I got there" Wilson dead panned, sounding a little better now that the Vicodin seemed to be working.

"Ah, see? Not my fault then-"

"You were paralytic!"

"How could you possibly know _that_, if I was unconscious at the time?"

"You rang me and told me you'd been drinking since 9am…in not so many coherent words" Wilson muttered. "I only came round to make sure you didn't try anything stupid"

"What possible stupid things could I have gotten up to in my own kitchen?" House feigned ignorance; he could actually imagine himself doing all sorts of irresponsible things in his own kitchen, especially if he was blind drunk at the time.

"You actually gave me a list of 'possible stupid things'...steak knives and washing up liquid were in the top ten" Wilson remembered.

"Think it's a good thing I don't remember any of that?" House asked, frowning as he racked his brain for any memories of that night.

"I think it was the anniversary of something...you were pretty angry" Wilson said as he turned his head to see what House's reaction to his next statement would be. "I was scared you'd do something you'd later regret."

House turned to face him, allowing a small genuine smile to play on his lips; "I think if we've learnt anything in the past half an hour; it's that the only person I have to worry about trying to kill me, is you..."

Wilson grinned, despite the seriousness of the conversation; to be honest, he'd wanted to tell House about that night for a while. His back, giving out again, had given him the opportunity to talk about it without having to bring it up himself – it was a win win situation...'apart from the absolute agony it brought with it' he thought as he groaned miserably, his back refusing to be ignored as he lay helplessly on the basement floor.

He'd just have to take the rest of the day off; Cuddy would be fine with it. He wasn't exactly taking a lot of sick days or anything, so it wouldn't be a problem.

There was one small problem that was bothering him though...

"Err, House...how are we gonna get out of here?"

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

"Err, House...how are we gonna get out of here?" Wilson asked, breaking the silence between the two.

"Don't ask questions to which you _know_ I don't have the answer to…" House replied, gingerly picking himself up off the floor and limping over to the boxes behind.

"Wait! Wh-where are you going?" Wilson stuttered, trying to tilt his head back to see House; he wouldn't put it past House to leave him stranded here for the night.

"Well, I figured I may as well get what we came for…" the diagnostician answered, without pausing in his rummaging; "you're not ruining it for me" he added accusingly.

Wilson sighed, staring at the various pipes and units fixed to the ceiling; "I want to see it" he stated, hearing House sniggering behind him.

"Sometimes you really do ask for it" the other man said devilishly, throwing the pink thong in Wilson's direction; he was unable to suppress a laugh as the item landed precariously close to his head.

"You've got a sick sense of humour" Wilson grumbled as he picked the article up between his thumb and forefinger; effectively, dangling the thong over his own face to get a better look at it.

"Thanks" House acknowledged, obviously thinking that Wilson was complimenting him…or at least, pretending to believe that, just to annoy Wilson.

"Err, is everything okay in here?" came an uncertain voice from the top of the stairs. Wilson cursed under his breath as he recognised the janitor, who had probably heard them whilst collecting his supplies from the room above.

"Everything's fine" House called back cheerfully; "but you're interrupting our private party" he added, much to Wilson's dismay.

"House!" he hissed angrily.

The janitor stared at them for a moment, unsure of how to handle the situation; he had apparently stumbled upon some sort of kinky party involving two of the hospital's senior department heads…it was times like these he wished he'd brought that cell phone with the camera in it.

"Leave now" House ordered, "or you're fired…"

The janitor stumbled out of the room; his job was far too important to be jeopardised by his curiosity. Even if it did look like the nice younger doctor was being taken advantage of by the gruff cripple.

"You can't fire a janitor…" Wilson scowled, "only Cuddy can"

"Yeah but he doesn't know that…and that fact that he believed me, proves he's more of an idiot than I thought" House muttered distractedly as he found a small plastic bag to slip the thong into before popping it into his pocket. "What?" he asked as he caught Wilson's look of disbelief.

"You do realise, Cuddy will _not_ let you order a DNA test on that"

"She will after I claim that it's what's making the guy sick…all I've got to say is _Infection_" House stated smugly. "Besides, _I_ won't be performing the test – Cameron will…she doesn't know about the bet" he explained, cocking his head to the side as he peered down on his friend. "I think it's time for you to get up."

Wilson grimaced. House was right, as usual; he needed to get off the cold floor and get to something substantially softer, like a bed. "Okay…but it's never hurt this much before…" he admitted coyly.

"_Now_ you tell me!" House groaned, "you couldn't have let me know that little snippet of information _before_ I sent the janitor away?"

"I didn't _make_ you send him away!" Wilson argued back, stopping abruptly to compose himself. "Look…if you can get me on my feet; I should be able to make it out of here."

"Oh, you make it sound so easy" House crowed, painfully aware of the limitations when it came to a cripple trying to help up a newly-crippled friend. He stood firmly in the spot above Wilson's head for a second, simply staring and frowning.

"You don't think you can do it?" Wilson asked worriedly; in all honestly, he didn't particularly want to be seen right now, let alone rescued, by anyone else in the hospital. Especially if it involved having to explain to someone, why he was even in the basement in the first place!

"I'm just surveying the logistics…" House replied calmly; "my leg doesn't want to be reintroduced to that pile of boxes, so soon after their first encounter."

Wilson made an effort to look at his friend; it occurred to him that he didn't really know if House had injured himself during the fall; he only knew that he hadn't knocked him out. "Are you okay? Did you hurt-"

"No!" House cried, cutting Wilson off completely, "don't you dare spoil my moment!" he warned, savouring the fact that it wasn't him stuck on the floor.

"You're actually enjoying this" Wilson muttered under his breath as the diagnostician circled his prone body, eventually coming to a stop by his legs.

"So…How do you want to do this?" he asked, as though Wilson really had a choice.

"Quick and painlessly" Wilson replied, without hesitation.

"Yeah, great plan" House scoffed before growing serious; "Right, I'll pull you into a sitting position by your wrists; you get your legs tucked under yourself at the same time, and then if I lean back, you should be able to stand…" He looked over to the nearby wall; "If you _do _decide to bail out at the last minute; fall that way…least then I get to land on something other than the floor."

"Okay" Wilson sighed. He twisted his face into a grimace as he gingerly moved his legs; this was going to be painful…excruciatingly so.

"Right…" House kneeled down beside him and laid his hands out waiting for Wilson to put his out. "On three…one, two – three!"

Both men cursed as the exertion jolted their already agonisingly painful injuries; House's shoulder screamed at him for daring to use it and his leg was throwing a tantrum.

Wilson's lower back felt as though it was being poked with something sharp and electrically charged; he felt himself become almost paralysed with pain when he finally got to his feet. He had the self preserving instinct to drop back down to his knees and return to his prone position; he looked to House who was desperately clinging to his wrists in an attempt at keeping him upright.

"Jesus, Wilson! Move!" House growled angrily as he felt the Oncologist pull back on his hands; he tried to pull him up harder, struggling against his weakened shoulder.

"I can't – just stop, stop!" Wilson hissed through gritted teeth, letting go of House's hands and leaving him to slam into the wall alone.

Surprisingly, Wilson managed to stay standing without House's help; it did occur to him however, as he watched House's shocked face get further away from his own, that maybe he should have warned him that he was going to let go _before_ he actually did.

After a nauseating thud, House slid down the wall, looking slightly taken aback, tearing his blazer on the rough brickwork in the process. Wilson gave him a withering look that he hoped would show his remorse; "Sorry, okay?" he gasped breathlessly, as if to reinforce the point.

Finding no new injuries, apart from his tattered jacket, House grinned in reply; he found the whole situation far too ridiculous to get angry. He stood, brushed himself down and unhooked his cane from the stair rail; "Ladies first" he said, motioning to the small set of steps.

Wilson blew out a shaky breath and shuffled over to climb the few steps to the next floor. Hissing as another sharp bolt ran down the lower part of his spine, he grabbed hold of the rail for support.

On his way up, he kept his ears pricked, listening for any sound that indicated House was behind him; it wasn't long before he was rewarded by a string of obscene curses and the occasional grunt.

Feeling slightly more relieved, Wilson stumbled over to the elevator and pressed the call button; he then braced himself using the wall, waiting for House to accompany him.

When House finally joined him, he could see the reason for his friend's slothfulness; due to the unfortunate pain in his right shoulder, he had to use the cane in his left hand. Not something he was used to, or particularly enjoyed, doing.

Wilson heard the familiar rattle of pills as House gingerly popped open the cap on his Vicodin script; no doubt he'd be asking for a refill very soon. He shook his head when he was offered one first, which got an exasperated eye roll from his friend.

"This isn't the time for indulging in self-martyrdom, Wilson. Take the damn pill!" House said, startling Wilson with his forcefulness. He quickly came to the conclusion that the older man was either in a lot more pain than he was letting on, or he was genuinely worried about seeing his best friend in agony.

Wilson managed to dry swallow the pill, something he detested doing, just as the elevator arrived. Both men let out audible sighs as the doors cracked open, revealing their gateway back to civilisation and…Cuddy.

She stood, arms folded, lips pursed and her eyebrows raised waiting for an explanation as to why two of her department heads were messing around in the basement. She frowned as both men shuffled in and took similar stances against the rear wall of the small boxlike room.

"What's going on and why have you been scaring my janitors?" she asked wearily, taking note of the Vicodin that House was eagerly dishing out to himself, accompanied by his, scruffier that usual, attire; she came to the swift conclusion that he'd fallen. "Is your leg-"

"No!" House cried maddeningly, cutting her off; "He's the one who's in so much pain he's walking like a crab" he motioned to Wilson, who seemed happy enough to hide in the background for the time being.

Cuddy turned to her Oncologist with concern; "What happened?"

"Bad back" Wilson clarified; "twisted it just now…House is looking after me" he added, fully aware that Cuddy would want him to see a doctor before he left the hospital. He, on the other hand, just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Err, okay" she said, taking another look at House; he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What? I _am_ a doctor, you know – look, got my own nametag and everything…" he fumbled around in his jacket pocket, only to draw a blank. "Oh wait…I think Chase is 'Dr House' today…" he frowned as he vaguely remembered ordering his young subordinate to 'go be me for a while' and sending him down to the clinic. "You get the idea though, right?"

Cuddy nodded slowly. If House wanted to look after Wilson, then that really wasn't going to be a problem. In fact, judging by the way he'd been taunting his poor, elderly patient earlier, it would be good to get rid of him for a few hours – give everyone a little peace and quiet. Plus, from the state of his tattered jacket, he'd probably scare off the patients…more than usual.

"You can leave early; but I want to see you _both_ here tomorrow morning" she stated as the elevator reached the fourth floor. "Bad backs only get better if you keep active" she explained to Wilson before House brusquely shooed her out.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" he moaned, "I forgot you were a specialised chiropractor"

"I forgot _you_ were a specialised home helper" she shot back, catching the small smirk on Wilson's lips. "Get better" she ordered lightly, then turned on her heel and left, content in the knowledge that she'd solved the mystery of where they'd both disappeared to.

House held his cane in the doorway to allow Wilson the time to exit; he wasn't used to being the quicker of the two, which became painfully obvious as he followed the younger doctor to his office, almost bumping into him twice. Even with his cane in his left hand, he had the long legged advantage of being able to take fairly substantial advances compared to Wilson's pained shuffle.

"We're going to yours – and I'm driving" House confirmed, feeling strangely curious of Wilson's hotel room; he'd never been there before… "We can still get by with the three P's there, right?"

"The three P's?" Wilson had no clue as to what House was talking about; House sighed, sure that he had gone through this with him before, many times.

"Pizza, porn and…" he gestured to Wilson, expectantly, to finish the sentence.

"Painkillers?" Wilson added optimistically.

"Well I was gonna say pancakes…but painkillers sound good too" House admitted, smirking; "I'll go pick some up – and give Cameron orders to test the thong…still gotta win our money" he added, patting his pocket thoughtfully. Wilson couldn't help but smile; he couldn't imagine any other doctor getting away with saying that and actually being serious.

"I'll meet you at your car in ten…" House stated, painfully striding off to first get rid of the thong and then get some Vicodin.

As Wilson watched his friend limp, glaringly unsteadily, down the hall, he couldn't help feeling a little elated. House seemed to have taken it upon himself to prove his worth as a best friend; whether it was to compensate for past favours or just because he didn't feel like torturing anyone today, Wilson was glad to know that, deep down, his friend was capable of a little compassion from time to time.

No doubt House would be moaning at him for the rest of the week about his shoulder and leg…but Wilson was prepared to put up with a little whining. Especially since it meant he'd still be part of the best 'screwed up friendship' in New Jersey…and honours like that were hard to come by.

Finis.

**Author's Note: Well, what do you think? Oh yeah, and _Thanks for reading_...lol x**


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